


Little Raven

by aderyn



Series: Balsam and Birch [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: ACD Canon References, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Doctor John, Guilt, Healing, Nature, Nature Magic, Speaking Trees, Trees, Wilderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-14
Updated: 2013-10-14
Packaged: 2017-12-29 02:22:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/999738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aderyn/pseuds/aderyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The great detective home from the wastes.<br/>Made fledgling again by the trees.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Raven

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Snow Queen](https://archiveofourown.org/works/752877) by [faerymorstan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/faerymorstan/pseuds/faerymorstan). 



 

Sometimes the oaks reproach him.

_Little raven, little raven._

_You are **wrong.**_

So much mast his for the knowing.

But he seeks refuge.

The great detective home from the wastes.

Made fledgling again by the trees.

*****

“Well they _are_ older than you,” John says, “the oaks.” Twinkles at him with a bit of tannin, an edge like the Archer, the Blade, shining through branch over river and rose.

They sit in the garden. Listen for the leaves.

Lestrade’s been in the roses again, solving what he can of aphid and grub, the mysteries his kind are bound to. Call Molly to retrieve him then, gather the last of the basil.

“What’s wrong,” John says, shows hackles only Sherlock can see.

Is it the memories.

*****

It’s the let-me-solve-it. It’s the burn to be right, the left-handed compound that spills over, scars their table, puts rents in their curtains, makes them shout and tilt and wonder.

The case with the fingers and the fuller’s earth.

The woman; the wounds; the puzzles that still hush them bloody.

John looks at him in the moonrise.

“Not wrong to use your gifts, Sherlock.”

_No matter how much it’s cost us._

John’s hands cover his; he tastes the heart of the oak.

The woods are speaking so loudly tonight.

_We love we love_ across the river Baker.

**Author's Note:**

> In Jude's Snow Queen 'verse, Lestrade is Molly's silver tomcat.
> 
>  [Mast, the fruit of forest trees](http://www.ncwildlife.org/Portals/0/Conserving/documents/CURE/fruit_and_mast.pdf)


End file.
